"Our tarnished spicy shoe dispensers stock only the most noble billowing smegma!" exclaimed the television advertisement with indecision. [i]I don't know what a television is,[/i] thought Mick Rob with a grim chutzpah that could only be likened to a complete set of encyclopedias that had been somehow wholly devoted to boomerang patterned carpet, then he began to cartwheel around the room, cracking imaginary walnuts with a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle of a confused ceiling. After a couple of hours he noticed a series of flagrant taps at his window, and opened it to admit his friend, Dave Steve. Directly succeeding this action he heard a knock upon his door and proceeded to open it. There stood a kangaroo, which subsequently hopped into the center of his living room. Mick Rob was dumbstruck. What an astonishing thing! Bizzare! There was a kangaroo is his house! He walked back into his living room and regarded the creature, who stood easy now, having accomplished its purpose. [i]I just can't get over it, he thought, why is this happening to me?[/i] Dave Steve abruptly shrugged his shoulders and spoke: "I'm sorry Mick Rob, but I've always wanted to do this...". He quickly took up an adjacent position to the kangaroo and began to wrap it in stickytape. [i]This is how God must feel,[/i] he exulted to himself. [i]I just can't get over it,[/i] thought Mick Rob. Meanwhile Frederickson Frederickson slid on his car door down the hill to visit his friends Mick Rob and Dave Steve, leaning slightly to the left in order to follow the gentle curve of the road. He was in state of highly provocative excitment- that morning he had learned of an important mystery competition which had been announced by violently precise letters on a flyer attatched to the public flank of a large rubber foaming Yak. [i]This is knowledge of consequence,[/i] he pronounced to himself with a growing aspect of dementia. Shortly, the bottom of the hill, and Mick Rob's house were in sight, and Frederickson Frederickson aimed the the grinding mass of his car door for an accomodating pile of mentally handicapped flamingoes. He pulled himself from the straining mass of drooling feathers and tapped discordantly upon Mick Rob's window. Mick Rob let Frederickson Frederickson into his living room with an air of distraction; he still hadn't reconciled himself to the fact of the kangaroo, now quietly suffocating, an impression of the superb about it's aura. [i]I just can't get over it,[/i] he thought devastatingly. But not only that, he now also found himself unable to get over the fact that he couldn't get over the kangaroo. [i]I can't get over the fact that I can't get over it,[/i] he thought appropriately. After a pause laden with the wisdom of the ages, Frederickson Frederickson exclaimed "Let's reverse roles!", and having suggested this he immediately didn't reverse his role, since his role had been suggesting that they reverse roles, so that had been the role that he reserved. Mick Rob and Dave Steve immediately followed suit and exclaimed, first Mick Rob and then Steve Dave: "I am not Mick Rob, and I am eminently comfortable with this kangaroo!" "I am not God, and I have nothing remotely to do with Dave Steve either!" Frederickson Frederickson retreated to the corner of the room, struck by a sudden insight: [i]if I was diving underwater, and I thought I saw a fish out of the corner of my eye, and then I kept thinking about that in a quizzicaly intense manner, as if the matter contained some consequence, and if I continued that way for over half an hour, I think I'd start to feel nauseous,[/i] he reflected with a growing feeling of unease in his gut. Meanwhile Mick Rob and Steve Dave, having renounced every event of their lives and reversed their roles, found themselves caught in a rather indecisive state of mind. Mick Rob glanced about himself an aspect of perturbed adoration, and Dave Steve for all the world resembled nothing so much as a wheelbarrow accidently stuck in the chimney of a room full of whale paintings.